


Can I Ask This Of You?

by mybrotherharry



Series: The Omega Oliver Queen Chronicles [1]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Alpha John Diggle, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Anal Sex, Arrow ABO AU, Barebacking, Break Up, Dubious Consent, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Omega Oliver Queen, Orgasm Denial, Pining, Romance, Rough Sex, Set post 4x15
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-16
Updated: 2019-11-16
Packaged: 2021-02-07 07:23:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21454222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mybrotherharry/pseuds/mybrotherharry
Summary: ABO Arrowverse AU: Post 4x15. Oliver, newly single, still reeling from the breakup with Felicity, asks Diggle to help him through his heat.Or how John and Oliver navigated a sexual relationship alongside a defining friendship.
Relationships: John Diggle/Oliver Queen, Oliver Queen/Felicity Smoak (past)
Series: The Omega Oliver Queen Chronicles [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1546597
Comments: 7
Kudos: 58





	Can I Ask This Of You?

**Author's Note:**

> For Ash, who prompted me to write lots of Diggle comforting Oliver after the Olicity breakup.  
Please don't hate or shipshame. I am an Olicity girl, experimenting with writing Diggle/Oliver in the spaces between Season 4 episodes.
> 
> ABO Universe: Omega!Oliver, Alpha!Diggle.  
There is NO LYLA or JOHN JR in his verse. Diggle is single.  

> 
> **The dubious consent tag is here for a reason: Oliver is out of his mind during heat, and while he definitely consented to participating, there is an icky moment when Diggle holds him down. Please be careful if this might be triggering to you.**
> 
> Omegas in this universe get monthly heats. I imply in the story that Oliver has abusive experiences surrounding his heats while he was on the island, and definitely has been force bonded with at some point in those four years. This is set immediately after Felicity dumps Oliver in season 4.

He goes back to sleeping in the bunker. 

He doesn't mind. She is angry, and she needs the time and space to cool off. The deposit on the loft was hers anyway. When Thea decided to sell, Felicity had purchased the place with her own funds. It had been a 'let's start a new life' present.

She can keep the loft.

He doesn't have a lot of stuff. It takes him less than an hour to clear out his side of the closet. He takes a box, and a duffel and throws everything together while she is at work.

The weapons taped under surfaces is another matter altogether. He removes the knives, but leaves a couple of guns in places she knows about. Just in case.

*

Between Damian Darhk, the new turbulences in his life and worrying about Thea, he barely notices the date on the calendar.

But when Diggle stiffens behind him for the third time in a week, or when Laurel walks into the bunker and takes a deep sniff, he remembers with a jolt.

"Ollie," Laurel tells him, "Um, - have you - er, you made plans?"

He didn't, is the thing. He hasn't had to worry about going through a heat alone in almost a year. 

"I still have my suppressants," he remembers. "I'll be fine."

*

That would have been the end of it if it weren't for Felicity.

"Are you planning on making yourself sterile before you turn forty?" she demands of him, her legs crossed under her seat. They are alone in the bunker that evening, Dig having read the tension in the room and making himself scarce.

"Felicity," he grits out, hanging from the salmon ladder beam. "I don't see how I have a choice."

"Those pills have side-effects," she continues like she didn't hear him. "Decreased fertility, loss of kidney function, liver damage. Oliver, you know better."

It hurts, he thinks, because she doesn't have the right to dictate this anymore. She didn't want it.

"I understand," she continues, "that you had no choice on that island -"

Oliver spent five dozen heats on the island. There were times when he had suppressants, and times when he didn't. The only thing common to all of them had been how those marks still litter his body. 

"- but you're spoiled for choice now."

For a moment, he lets himself hope - 

"You mean you will - ?"

"No," she says right away, definitive about it. "I mean. John."

He gets off the ladder, and stares at her. She can't be serious.

"It's not like the first time. I know for a fact that he helped you, that first year in the hood."

"That's - different."

"Oliver," she pinches the bridge of her nose with her fingers. "Be reasonable."

He actually is, is the thing. The three of them form an intimate pack. They work too closely together, and their dynamics have remained unconvoluted for so long. Introducing a shared omega here? An omega who's been with both of the alphas in their small pack, when they're still reeling from the breaking of their relationship? Oliver can't see how this can end well.

"You don't know what you're asking," he tells her. "Are you - I know you're angry with me. I know you ended it. But are you seriously telling me you'd be okay with Digg and I coming back here after? Of me smelling like him?"

She grimaces, and an expression of horrifying disgust crosses her face.

Swallowing, she answers, "We need to be better than our worst urges. Oliver, I want you to not be alone through your heat. I am willing to put up with everything else."

If she really didn't want him to be alone during his heat, there's an easy solution. But he's lost the right now. It's his own goddamn fault. The pain of their breakup still stings, and he's barely managed to pull the pieces of his heart back together. He didn't need this right now.

"Just consider it, okay? I know the pills are an easy way out right now, but you might want children some day."

He has a child right now. He has a son, who he is no longer allowed to see. He has a child that Moira Queen hid from him. He lost William, and in the same swoop, he lost the best thing that ever happened to him. Is it worth losing his best friend too?

"If this goes sideways," he says, "if it turns out that we cause alpha rage in our little pack, I am not ready to lose my best friend."

"John won't walk away," she says. He can hear the 'unlike me' plain and clear. "Besides, you're only asking him for help with one heat. If he says no, you still don't have to be alone. There's Laurel. Sara can come visit if we catch her in the right timeline. Worst case scenario, I give Bruce a call."

Oliver is not spending another heat with Bruce Wayne. Bruce will agree. Felicity doesn't know all the details of his time with Ras'Al'Ghul, and she doesn't need to know.

He nods, bracing himself for what's coming.

*

When he asks John, Diggle just looks at him with wide eyes.

"You sure, man?"

"It's been a few years since we did this," Oliver says, "but I can still make it good for you."

Dig's expression goes warm and kind. "That's not what I meant, Oliver," he explains. "I don't need to be a genius to figure out that you're in ten different kinds of pain right now."

"Felicity said I shouldn't take the pills."

John is silent for a moment before answering. "You're allowed to disobey her now," he points out gently.

"That's never been a problem for me," he chuckles coldly. "You could argue that is exactly why I am in this mess right now."

"Oliver -"

"But she is right about the pills. The side effects, I mean. I have already taken more doses than is recommended. God knows what it's doing to my body chemistry. If I can avoid another cycle of pills and the nausea that comes with it - please, John."

"Alright," John nods. "I'll take care of you. Just one heat?" He asks in his infinite wisdom, trying to clarify the terms before this gets messy.

"I won't ask more of you, John," Oliver explains. "I will take whatever you can give me."

"Okay, Oliver, but I am having a word with Felicity too."

Oliver swallows around the lump in his throat and nods.

*

They decide to keep to the bunker.

Oliver still lives there, and taking him to John's place is asking for trouble. Oliver's senses are enhanced during heat, and he will not feel safe in a new environment, trying to keep all sightlines in view. 

They have a small antechamber to the side, which usually doubles as a locker room. Felicity moved an old cot in there when she realized Oliver was sleeping on the floor. The room locks from the inside, has easy access to weapons to appease Oliver's paranoia, and is familiar enough to be comforting for Oliver.

For their current purposes, it will do.

Oliver doesn't know the contents of Dig's conversation with Felicity, but he knows they talked. On the night before Oliver's heat, Felicity stocks the minifridge with bottles of water and fixings for sandwiches. Putting a loaf of bread on top of the microwave, she turns to John and Oliver.

"Take care of him," she says, her voice shaky. She visibly takes a deep breath, before continuing, "I mean -"

Oliver resists the urge to fall to his knees before her and submit. He shakes his head, trying to clear it. He isn't allowed anymore.

"I know what you mean," Digg growls. The pheromones in the air aren't helping. "Felicity, it will be better if you leave now."

"Yeah," she nods, picking up her bag. "I have told the rest of the team that the bunker is off limits for the next two days. The security protocols are in place. You guys - yeah, I think I will go now."

Oliver wants to crawl after her. He is shaking. His entire body is shaking. He curls in on himself, gritting his teeth. He is the fucking Arrow. He can do this. 

*

The pneumatic sliding door shuts behind Felicity in a smooth motion, leaving Oliver alone with John. 

He spends a couple of beats quiet, clenching and unclenching his fists, willing his heart to calm down. He has done this before. He just needs to get into the right headspace.

Right.

Slade Wilson had taught him to catalogue every little thing that an alpha liked. Alphas were easy enough to handle if you knew how to use the skills you had. Slade had taught Oliver to look for cues from his body, to learn what he liked and to apply it to satisfaction. Oliver's honed his techniques since the time he blew Slade Wilson in the open fuselage of the wreck of an airplane. He has learned to observe.

Some days during those five years, observing had saved his life. 

He remembers what John likes. A couple of months after getting back to Starling, John had helped Oliver through his heat. Oliver's skin is burning with want, and the familiar twinge of lust that overtakes his every rational thought is barely held at bay. While he still has his mind, he would like to show John a good time.

He hasn't had to use skills like this in a long time. With Felicity, he never had to think about pleasing her. It came naturally. He knew. And Felicity hated it if she caught him going to his mindspace, to where he is absent from reality and simply doing what his partner wants.

In fact, the only times Felicity's punished him have been when he mentally checked out during sex.

He shakes his head. This isn't about Felicity. This is about John. 

John likes submission. John likes it when his omegas are sweet for him. When they ask permission. When they blush prettily, and look up at him through their eyelashes. He likes them coy but enthusiastic. It's a difficult line to straddle. But he can make John happy. He can stop thinking about his skin craving Felicity, and make John happy.

He sinks to his knees, hands behind his back, head down. 

John steps closer. One hand comes up to thread through his hair, getting longer again because Felicity liked -

Stop. He needs to stop thinking about Felicity.

"You sure about this?" John asks, bent low to whisper against his ear. "I can still go get your pills."

Their efficacy drops by about 50% if not taken in the window at least sixty hours before the first wave hits. They will be useless now.

He shakes his hand. 

"Alright then," John says. "Come up here," he leans down, one arm under his thighs, one under his back and hauls him up in a bridal carry. 

"John." Oliver says, trying to keep the amusement out of his voice. "This is ridiculous." He is a grown man, not of inconsiderable weight, being carried like this by an alpha.

"Hush, Oliver, you're not in charge right now." John walks them to the antechamber, and gently deposits him on the little bed. Oliver gently reaches out with a shaking hand, but stops, timid. He is supposed to ask permission.

"Yeah, you can touch," John tells him gently, leaning over him. "I am here. Why don't you go exploring? Go on. Find what you like."

This is not weird, Oliver tells himself. This is not weird. This is John, a man who will take a bullet for you. This is your best friend. This is okay. This is not weird.

He slips one hand under Digg's t-shirt, feeling the firm muscles of his abdomen. With the other, he pulls Digg closer by the back of his neck, leaning up for a kiss. Digg tastes like coffee.

He should have shaved, he realizes. Digg probably likes his omegas clean shaven. Shit, shit, shit, shit.. 

"Stop thinking," Digg orders against his lips. "I can see those wheels turning. You're doing fine, Oliver. Just focus on you, okay? What do you want?"

Oliver looks up at him, unsure of everything. His heart is thudding loudly in his chest.

This was easier when they did this four years ago. When they were both strangers to each other, and Digg was just helping out the new omega in his life. But now, with so much friendship behind them, a history of watching each other's backs... Oliver realizes the full weight of what he is putting at risk here.

"You're still thinking."

"Digg.."

"I said yes, didn't I?" John asks, running a hand through Oliver's hair again. He likes the sensation. "I meant it, Oliver. Now tell me, what do you want?"

Oliver swallows. "Can I - can I - clothes off, please?"

"There we go," John laughs. "Now, was that so hard?" He gets up off the bed just long enough to pull off his t-shirt, his trousers and with the lack of self consciousness bred in him by the army, shrugs off his boxer briefs. "Come on, you're allowed to touch." 

Digg climbs up the cot, bracing both hands by Oliver's head, leaning down to kiss him. Oliver touches everything he can reach, running his hands up and down Diggle's broad chest, his sides, even drawing a gasp when he plays with a nipple. Digg grabs the hem of his t-shirt, and pauses.

"Can I?" 

It's nothing John hasn't seen before. The bunker gets hot. Oliver spends a lot of time down here shirtless. It used to be showboating for Felicity, but not anymore.. John's seen all the scars. He's seen the four bitemarks at the nape of his neck, all in various stages of healing. John knows how damaged Oliver is. 

He nods, trying to lower his eyes. John likes his omegas shy.. 

In one quick move, Digg gets Oliver out of his shirt and starts on his trousers. A tug and a yank, and he has Oliver in his boxers. 

"Fucking gorgeous," Digg mutters, going straight for the nape of his neck. He worries the skin there with his teeth, pressing kisses. The bonding gland throbs at the attention. It's been throbbing for nearly a day, as it does whenever Oliver is in heat. Felicity was supposed to place a bite there during their next heat together. An involuntary sob makes its way up his throat. 

"Hush baby," John whispers. "I got you." Oliver feels John's giant hand wrap around his cock, slipped under his boxers. He tugs the boxers down, kissing him, letting John stroke him. "There we go," John says. "Come on, you don't have to be quiet."

Oliver quickly loses himself in the sensation. John’s big hand moving against him, his own coming around to wrap around John’s neck, the softness of John’s lips kissing him as he strokes him to his first orgasm.. Oliver comes with a shout, spilling all over John’s hand. He lies back against the pillows, panting as John removes his hand, bringing it upto Oliver’s mouth, a challenge in his eyes.

Determined to obey, Oliver darts out a tongue to lick, meeting John’s gaze. 

Something breaks between them. The walls they had both stayed behind crumbles, their friendship irrevocably morphing into something else. Oliver is licking his own cum off John’s hand. They can never go back to being platonic friends again.

Unbidden tears make their way out the corners of Oliver’s eyes, and John brushes them away with a thumb.

He presses a kiss to Oliver’s forehead, gaze sincere.

“I got you,” he murmurs. “It’s okay.”

Oliver claws at John’s chest, wanting more, the heat burning through his veins. John wastes no time in giving him what he wants. He drags Oliver’s boxers down his legs and chucks them to the side, and taps him on the thigh. Oliver spreads his legs, wrapping them around John’s waist loosely.

One large finger prods at his hole, gentle and seeking permission. “Relax,” John orders, so Oliver does. One finger becomes two, and when John twists them in exactly the right way, he gasps, arching off the bed with a shout. John does it again, pressing down and enjoying the way Oliver’s walls dance around his fingers.

He pushes in another finger, stretching and tugging, trying to make room. Oliver is plenty wet already, his heat peaking with impeccable timing. When John withdraws his fingers and lines up, he waits, panting above Oliver, waiting for him to say the ritualistic words.

Suddenly shy, and wary of this fragile thing between them, Oliver looks at John, eyes wide. 

“Trust me, Oliver,” John asks. 

Oliver nods, and finds the words to be brave one more time. “Take me, alpha.”

Consent, freely given. 

John pushes in, one long, forceful slide and Oliver groans as John fills him up. 

He isn’t small, is the thing. The thrust knocks Oliver a few inches up the cot, and he wraps his legs tighter around John’s waist, going along for the ride. John grabs both of Oliver wrists and pins them above his head with one hand, bracing himself on the cot with the other and fucking in.

John feels huge inside Oliver, the force of his thrusts bruising against Oliver’s hips, his hole burning at how far John is stretching him. He feels himself opening up, he feels John up in his throat with how he is punching all the air out of his lungs.

“John,” he tries to grab at anything he can reach, but John’s hand is unrelenting where it is pinning him down. He trusts John. He trusts John to not throw him off, but everything is so overwhelming… 

“Stay, Oliver,” John grunts against his ear. “Just for once, stay down.”

“John,” he struggles against him, trying to touch, trying to hold on to John, trying for anything.. 

“Hey, hey, hey,” John stills inside him and Oliver hates it immediately. John needs to move, to keep fucking him, to keep knocking the breath out of him. “Oliver, I got you. Let go, come on, let go. I got you. You don’t need to be in charge right now. Let go, baby.”

It’s probably the endearment that does it in the end. Oliver slumps against Digg, showing the kind of trust he perhaps hasn’t shown anyone since the time he pulled Felicity into his car and drove off. 

He lets go, keeping his hands where they are for John. 

“Good boy,” John praises, making Oliver flush with warmth. “Good omega. Beautiful.” 

John resumes thrusting his hips, hard and fast. When Oliver is on the edge of the abyss, John stills, going soft and pliant and slow and deep, making Oliver groan and beg.

“Please John,” he begs. “Please. Please. Please.”

“Yeah, keep begging, just like that,” he groans as he stills inside him, releasing in a gush. 

Oliver feels the warmth spreading in deep places inside him, tying him up as John knots into him. 

He whimpers in pain, as John’s already huge cock swells impossibly further, stretching his rim into white, hot pain. There is no escaping an alpha’s knot. No matter how much you stretch beforehand, evolution means for this to be an infallible way of trapping an alpha’s seed in an omega. 

When John jostles them as he turns them to their side, Oliver can feel the cum gushing around John’s cock, drenching his insides.

He groans in pain, and John runs his hands down his sides, trying to comfort him.

“It’s okay,” he murmurs. “It will pass in a second. You did so well. You did beautifully.” 

Oliver flushes red, flushing down his chest all the way to his abdomen, and John traces it down with his fingers, brushing them just slightly north of where Oliver’s cock is begging for attention.

“You have been so good for me, haven’t you?” John kisses Oliver temple. “Waited so patiently.” He presses kisses down his jaw, and at the point where his neck meets his shoulder, biting down hard. 

“Please,” Oliver begs. He wants to please John. He wants to be so good.. 

“What if I ask you to wait longer, huh?” John says and Oliver sobs into the pillow. “I let you have one to take the edge off. But now I feel like you gotta be good for me. Can you?”

“Yes,” he answers, because of course he can. He can do anything for John.

“Good boy,” John’s hand comes up to brush his blonde hair off his forehead. “Try and get some sleep. We’re gonna be here for a while. Go on, close your eyes. I got you.”

Oliver doesn’t think he can fall asleep while they’re tied together like this, with his hole throbbing around John, squeezing him for all his worth, and his own cock weeping a song of need. But he is surprised to find himself drifting away the moment his eyelids close. 

He hears John murmur reassurances in his ear, but can’t be certain of what is actually said. He falls asleep with John’s voice in his ear.

*

They survive the next couple of days.

While Oliver swings between periods of lucidity and cloying desire, John steadies him, holding him like an anchor, giving him what he wants. He fucks him, hard and fast against nearly every surface in the bunker, holding him up against the wall and giving it to him hard enough to bruise. They also do gentle and sweet when Oliver is sobbing into Digg’s chest, when he has to earn every inch that he gains into Oliver’s body. 

Diggle doesn’t let Oliver cum, not once through the two days after the very first orgasm.

Oliver is obviously struggling, but it is the struggle that grounds him. That keeps him from slipping away to that mindspace where he shuts everything out and dissociates from whatever is happening to him. It was a survival mechanism on the island, but Diggle wants it nowhere near what they are doing.

He gives it to Oliver hard and fast, and makes him focus on not cumming, keeping him here and now. 

It is two days later now, and they’re nearly at the end of this wave of heat. Diggle’s got Oliver on the training mat, under a blanket, holding him close and pressing kisses down his back. His cock looks an angry purple, but he is being a good little soldier. 

It’s probably their last bout of sex, so Diggle figures its time Oliver got his reward.

“You’re worn out,” he says. “Aren’t you?”

Oliver doesn’t reply. He is too far gone to answer, so Digg pinches his thigh, hard.

“Yes, sorry yes, alpha - please,” he begs. He’s slipped and called Digg _ alpha _ several times in the last couple of days. John’s found that he’s liked it. 

“I know baby,” he answers. “We’re almost done, aren’t we?” Oliver flushes again, breathing hard. “Come on, look at me, gorgeous.”

Oliver twists in John’s arms to look at him, expression pleading. 

“Yeah, I’ll give you what you want,” he says. “You were so good for me. You can have your reward.” He maneuvers himself down to Oliver’s waist, and without breaking eye contact, takes him in his mouth. Oliver groans, arching off the mats, trying to restrain himself because his alpha didn’t actually say the words, didn’t actually give permission, and his lizard hind brain is having trouble understanding anything beyond _ obey _ and _ respect.. _

John pulls off of his cock to get the words out. 

“You can come, Oliver,” he says. “Anytime you want.”

In less than a minute, he is flooding John’s mouth, mewling his pleasure, his fingers digging into the mat. Afterward, when John’s released him and they lie cuddling together, John throws the blanket over them both, holding Oliver close, letting him get back to reality at his own pace.

Oliver’s nearly stopped shaking in John’s arms when he turns around, pressing his face into John’s chest. 

“Oh, are you hiding away now?” he asks his voice kind and low. “That’s a shame. Got pretty eyes.”

He sobs against John, overwhelmed. Diggle seems to know what he needs without him having to voice it, so he lets him cry it out. 

Eventually, Oliver’s sobs subside into more regular breathing. John picks him up gently and carries him to the cot, letting him sleep it off. He has already changed the sheets. After ensuring Oliver’s passed out, he sets about cleaning up their mess from the last couple of days. They’re nearly out of food, and Diggle will have to replace the training dummy. It didn’t survive their tryst against it. Though the sight of Oliver tied to it, begging for mercy… 

Willing his erection to remember that he is not a teenager anymore, and the fact his best friend (lover?) is probably getting his first night of decent sleep in months, John takes the trash out. He clears away the remnants of the mess, getting out the anti septic wipes and cleaning as many of the surfaces as he possibly can. 

When Oliver groans on the cot a couple of hours later, the bunker is spotless. Digg grabs a bottle of water and goes to the antechamber to find Oliver twisted up in the sheets. He is sweating out the last of his heat.

“Oliver,” he stands a foot away and calmly calls his name. He knows better than to touch Oliver to wake him up. “Oliver. Wake up. You’re dreaming.”

Oliver jolts awake, sitting up fast on the cot, the motion nearly silent. Once he’s upright, his face scrunches up, as the various aches in his body probably make themselves known. He bites his lip, taking in John Diggle and immediately coloring a deep red.

John sighs. 

“You okay?” he assures him. “You good?”

Oliver nods, shaky and uncertain, and still _ not looking _at John. John expected this really. Best friends doing this is a terrible idea. But he won’t let things get awkward. Oliver is his best friend.

“You out of it now?” 

Another shaky nod.

“Man, Oliver, need you to talk to me,” he points out, crouching down on the floor in front of the cot.

“John,” he says, his voice raspy from the deep abuse his throat went through the last couple of days. “Diggle. I - thank you.”

“You don’t need to thank me, Oliver,” he assures him. “But you need to tell me how you’re feeling. Was it - was I too rough?”

“I am - the heat’s gone, I am sure,” Oliver answers. “I am just a little sore. I’ll be fine once I take a shower.”

“A bath might be a better idea,” he tells him. “Want me to run you one?”

“Dig, you don’t need to take care of me,” he says, looking away. 

“I actually do,” Dig says patiently, willing Oliver to stop pushing him away. “Hey, lemme look at you.”

The fight goes out of Oliver when Digg pulls the blankets back, taking in the variety of bruises blemishing his pale skin. Oliver’s definitely had worse, but Digg’s particularly worried about his back. He may have not been very gentle with Oliver’s ass, and his suspicions are proven right when Oliver motions to get off the cot and goes rigidly still. 

“Thought so,” he mutters. “Alright, you’re done.” He bends down and picks Oliver up again, projecting his intentions clearly so Oliver doesn’t actually throw him to the floor in panic.

“I still think this is ridiculous,” Oliver grumbles. “The heat’s gone.”

“Man, I can drop you on your ass right here if that’s what you want.”

It’s probably a testament to how sore Oliver is that he doesn’t even talk back. 

Feeling guilty, John carries him to the small but lavish bathroom they added to the bunker. 

“If you ever tell Felicity I took a bath in here,” Oliver mumbles into John’s chest, “Imma shoot arrows in you.”

“Yeah, you will never hear the end of it,” John laughs. The argument Oliver and Felicity had about adding a bathtub to this little setup had been of epic proportions. Oliver had wanted a simple, utilitarian shower. Felicity had wanted the works. 

“Like the prefect’s bathroom from Harry Potter,” she had said. Oliver had made faces at her when her back had been turned. John knows the two of them fought it out in the bedroom later. The thought fills him with a pang now. He shakes his head. Must be the pheromones lingering.

Inside the little bathroom, John places Oliver on the vanity as gently as possible. But Oliver still hisses in pain, his teeth gritted. The very fact that he is letting the pain show is enough to tell Diggle that he screwed up bad.

“I am so sorry, Oliver,” he comes closer, standing between Oliver’s knees, taking his hand in between his own. 

“Digg,” Oliver says, looking everywhere except _ at John, _“you didn’t do anything I didn’t want.” 

John isn’t a very complicated man. So he has no excuse to give himself when he admires the blush going from Oliver’s face down his chest.

“I should have been gentler,” he insists. “And please don’t say you have had worse.” He rushes the words out before Oliver can interrupt. 

“I liked it,” Oliver says in a small voice, still addressing his own hands. “I liked everything we did.”

John can’t stop the smile spreading across his face. “Yeah?”

Oliver turns an even deeper shade of red. “Yeah.”

John fills the tub, getting it hot enough and then ignores all of Felicity’s favorite bubble concoctions in favor of a simple, clean coconut smelling bottle. Natural, and probably closest to how Oliver smells to Diggle.

“Coconut?” Oliver asks, raising his eyebrows.

“I can dump all this out and use Felicity’s raspberry bubble magic if that’s more your speed.”

“Don’t you dare,” Oliver laughs as John picks him up again and gently lowers him into the bath. The groan of relief Oliver lets out is practically pornographic.

“Get in with me,” Oliver grabs John’s arm when John makes to stand up.

“Oliver,” John says, a protest on his tongue.

“Please, John,” Oliver requests, still not looking at him. “It’s a humongous tub. Felicity made sure of it. Besides, if I am sore, you probably are too.”

John strips off the sweatpants he’s wearing and gets in, the water feeling amazing against his bare skin. Oliver scoots forward, letting John slide himself behind him before leaning back against his chest. John gently grasps his hips and pulls him on top of his lap.

Gently, he rinses Oliver’s hair. He has discovered that he has a slight hair fixation. Oliver’s blonde hair is actually starting to curl up at the bottom of his neck, something he hadn’t expected. They are both sober now, the intensity of the heat has abated, so John doesn’t know if he is still allowed to press kisses down Oliver’s neck. He wants to.

He wants it so bad. 

There are four bites at Oliver’s mating gland. They are both scarred, and scabbed over, indicating that the corresponding bonds broke. John only knows the identity of one of the four. Slade Wilson.

Felicity was supposed to put a fifth one at his neck..

“You can ask, John,” Oliver tells him, having understood the portent of his gaze.

“You don’t have to tell me your secrets, Oliver,” he points out. “They are yours. But if you decide to ever share them, I’ll be honored to carry them with you.”

Oliver twists around to look at him, eyes carrying an inexplicable emotion, something far off as he processes that. They stare at each other until, finally, Oliver says, “Thank you,” and kisses him.

*

Diggle is dressed again by the time they get Felicity’s text. She is on her way back. Oliver is still a little too tender to put on pants, so Digg wraps him up in the thickest robe they have in the bunker. Oliver is working on finishing the sandwich Digg made for him when Felicity finally makes her way inside.

“Hey,” she says, walking in. She stops in her tracks beside the entrance, looking at them both and taking a deep sniff. Immediately, her stance changes.

Oliver sighs and puts his sandwich back on the plate. “Oh, here we go.” He rolls his eyes.

Digg unconsciously moves in front of Oliver, folding his arms over his chest, his posture aggressive.

This is going to make or break the team, Oliver thinks. If they both slip into alpha rage right now, and the odds are high that they could.. 

Diggle lets out an honest to God growl.

“What did you do to him?!” Felicity shrieks at John. “I told you to take care of him!”

“I did!” John yells back. “And it’s none of your business! He isn’t yours!”

Enough was enough. “HE,” Oliver says calmly, his voice flat and promising absolute murder, “is sitting right here, and can throw the two of you through a wall, so cut it out.” He goes back to his sandwich. 

He calmly stomps on ham and cheese, while watching the impasse in front of him loosen. Dig relaxes first, taking a small step back and turning around to look sheepishly at Oliver. Felicity is obviously mollified the instant John’s turned away, cause she lets out a small gasp and puts a hand to her mouth.

“Oh John,” she says. “I am so sorry. Damn, we need to air this place out. It was like being hit in the face by the smell - I mean, pheromones - sorry, there is no polite way of saying the stink of sex, is there?” 

John gives her a small smile. “I am sorry too,” he says. “I’ll go turn on the rear fans, shall I?”

“Yes, please,” she tells him. John seems reluctant to go, but Oliver gives him a look which gets him moving. The last thing Oliver needs is a hovering, overprotective alpha.

Felicity steps closer to where he is sitting. He is in her usual chair, in front of her wall of monitors, eating his sandwich. He is starving. He is always ravenous after a heat, and this time with Diggle was particularly intense.

“Are you okay?” she asks him, standing in front of him.

He looks up at her, and the instinct to go to his knees for her is still as strong as ever. He needs to train himself out of it. Even when they were together, they kept public displays of submission to the minimum. The lair had been a place for Team Arrow. He resists the urge to get off the chair and let her sit down. She won’t appreciate it right now.

“Oliver,” she asks again. “Are you feeling alright? John was - I mean, he - oh darn it, he treated you alright?”

Oliver is actually pretty sure John is taking his time with the rear fans to give them a moment. 

“Yeah,” Oliver swallows his last bite of the sandwich, “he was - erm, he was great, actually. Thank you for stopping me. With the pills, I mean. Just - thank you.”

“I still care about you, Oliver,” she says in a quiet voice, her eyes wet behind her glasses. “That hasn’t changed.”

“You are angry with me,” he points out, because it’s a constant undercurrent to his every waking moment. He screwed up the greatest thing that ever happened to him, and he didn’t even get to keep William in his life. 

“I am angry,” she says. “But I will get over it.”

“Don’t give me hope, Felicity,” he pleads. “Please don’t. Stop dangling _ maybes. _”

Words from a lifetime ago, and he is throwing them in her face now. It’s not kind.

She smiles sadly, but comes closer to stand by him, leaning down to press a kiss into his hair. That can’t be nice for her. Despite the bath, he probably still smells like Diggle.

“You smell injured,” she says instead, opting to ignore the fact that he’s got a good layer of John Diggle covering his scent. 

“It’s nothing,” he says, blushing. He _ cannot _ discuss this with her. He cannot explain to her why he is sore in places he didn’t know existed. John is _ big. _

“Oliver.”

“Leave it alone, Felicity,” he insists. “Believe me, you don’t want details.”

She scrunches up her face, too slow to hide the flash of disgust. Oliver doesn’t take it personally. He can’t imagine her with another omega yet. 

“Yeah, sorry,” she murmurs. “But tell me if I can help, yeah? Even if it is just making a store run to pick you up some Advil.”

It’s the aftereffect of the heat. Oliver knows that. For a couple of days, all alphas in his life are going to be overprotective and tripping over themselves to get him things. Thea is the most unbearable for the lot. He is supposed to be taking care of _ her, _not the other way around.

“Thank you, Felicity,” he says, putting an end to the discussion. With impeccable timing (which Oliver knows is perfectly orchestrated), John comes back into the room. 

“The rear fans are on,” he says. “I am going to go home and get some sleep.” He announces to the room. “Oliver?” he asks.

“I am fine, John,” he assures the man. “Go home.” John nods. “And John? Thank you.”

“Any time,” John smiles in return.

~ The End ~ (Maybe?)

**Author's Note:**

> Please comment and review! I would love to hear what you thought.  
Come say hi on [tumblr!](https://baffledkingcomposinghallelujah.tumblr.com/)


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